The Minotaur
by jane.green
Summary: Missing moments/scenes from the movie between Ariadne and Cobb. Some slight changes here and there, but only to the benefit of the characters and their story. Please read and review. Thanks!
1. Chapter 1

1. Normalcy

'I know this bridge. This place is real, isn't it?'

The sense of urgency and panic in his voice made her turn her head in surprise. She nodded her head, smiling awkwardly.

'Yeah I cross it every day to get to the college,' she explained shrugging her shoulders.

He could feel the tension building up in his stomach like a knife slowly eviscerating his insides. He could clearly see the two of them - or is it _us_? – standing by the bridge, his chin in the crook of her neck, her nose in his cheek, as if there wasn't anywhere they'd rather be. And if he walked towards the edge of the bridge he would take the place of his younger self and hold Mal. Young Mallore. So very present and full of life.

_She's going to appear because this place is real. She's going to appear because this was a memory. She's going to..._

'It's the reason I'm always so late for classes.'

Her loud voice hit him like a splash of cold water. He blinked in surprise.

'What do you mean?' he asked, despite himself.

'Well,' she said, running to the right side of the bridge and leaning over the rail, 'I just love this sight too much. You can see everything from here. So, almost each morning I loiter in this spot until it's too late to ignore the time.'

And all of a sudden, the memory of him and Mall holding each other happily was torn apart by Ariadne's figure, who was leaning over the bridge like a little girl, her hair blowing in her face, her short feet on their toes, her face scrunched up in a childish smile of satisfaction.

'It looks even better in a dream,' she concluded, nodding to herself.

Dom was struck with how very different and almost silly the image looked now. It made him feel uncomfortable and misplaced. He wanted to laugh at her peculiar innocence and push her away from his memory, both at the same time. She shouldn't have invaded what was his private space. Where once had been his beautiful and charming young wife now stood a scrawny teenager with a large scarf around her neck.

But, if there was something that was less irritating, it was that the feeling of panic stopped for a while and a sense of calm and normalcy took over him. It was alright. It was just a young girl gazing at Paris. The hurtful, crackling noise in his head stopped for a few moments and the people walking by seemed less hostile. Probably because it was the first time she was not changing anything.

He wanted to chide her for her mistake. He wanted to make her understand that recreating a place from memory was highly dangerous and unadvisable.

He was going to, any minute now. The guilt would wash over him again and the moment of peace would be over. Was it selfish of him to want to be part of this other life for a minute, this other life where this young college student passed this bridge every morning without even knowing that he existed or that the love of his life had stood at that bridge a long time ago?

Wasn't it exhilarating to be somebody else?

'Ariadne,' he told her, his voice sad, but firm. He had to let go. The feeling would never last. 'While impressive, the bridge is not a good idea, because...'

'You should never recreate places from your memory,' a silky voice spoke from the crowd.

Dom's eyes widened in fear as the people around her parted and Mal stepped in front of him, wearing the white coat he had given her for her birthday and the same cold and judging expression she welcomed him with.

'Always imagine new places,' she added, raising her brow. 'Is that correct, darling? I wouldn't want to teach her wrong.'

Ariadne stared at the mesmerising woman in confusion. She did not understand what was going on, but what she was saying was making some sense to her.

'Is she another member of your team?' Ariadne asked naively.

Dom shot Ariadne a warning look, but the girl seemed totally unfazed.

Mal quickly turned her attention towards her. In only four steps she was already in front of her and by the time Ariadne saw the knife, Mal had already stabbed her, giving her no time to be shocked or frightened.

She fell to the ground, holding her wound with her hand. Her eyes searched Dom's, because he was the only thing she could hold onto at this point. He was staring back with enormous pain.

'Wake me up,' her last words were.


	2. Chapter 2

2. Message

'How is everything going?' a gruff and distant voice asked.

'Cobb. Are you still in Mombasa?'

Dom held the phone over his head. He was standing in a balcony. The winding alleys at his feet looked like dark snakes. The sun shone so bright it made them look pitch-black. Narrow streets in summer fire. All sorts of peddlers and shop-keepers were running across, yelling at each other in an unfamiliar language. Some children were calling to him. A young woman caught one in her arms and started tickling his belly. A small van parked right under the balcony and the sound of voices doubled.

'What does it sound like?'

'Sounds like you're not being chased by anyone,' Arthur replied.

'Yeah, I got lucky. How are things going?'

'Did you find Eames?'

'More or less. Saito likes him already.'

'Saito? He's in Mombasa?' Arthur asked surprised.

'That's how I got lucky.'

'I should have guessed. He takes care of his business.'

'That's exactly what he said.'

'Are you three talking plans already?'

'Nothing solid yet. We are seeing a chemist tomorrow.'

'I see.'

'How is everything going?' he repeated.

'If by everything you mean the architect, then not so good,' Arthur replied casually.

Dom paused and looked at the perfectly white sky. The low rooftops looked like rusty teeth biting into skin.

He got back inside his room, where the shade made everything cooler.

'She hasn't returned?'

'Not yet. Cobb, she was pretty upset last time I saw her. Safe to say, she left yelling how she'll never come back. Are you sure about this one?'

Dom paused and stared at the small, blue bed covered in all sorts of papers.

Sweat trickled down his back. He wasn't sure about her mood swings or how easily she took offence or if she really minded getting herself into dangerous situations. All he knew, which was admittedly little but quite enough in his job, was that she had talent and drive. Two things which were solid for him. Her character was yet unknown, but she seemed the curious, inquisitive type. Maybe a bit bookish too. Of course, this short summation of her traits led him to believe she would come back in a day or two.

But she wasn't Nash. She was a twenty-two year old girl.

'I'm sure,' Cobb replied, but he knew his voice was wavering. 'She will be back. You know what to do when she does.'

'Cobb...if she doesn't come back...'

'Then you can pick an architect yourself,' Cobb replied and shut his phone.

Maybe he had made a mistake. But he had seen something in her, something of his younger days, when all he could do was build and destroy and change and remodel and take it all from scratch again, just like she did.

She wasn't special. He was sure he could find another architect, just as good. But she was young and full of life and she was a free spirit, untarnished by life, having no regrets and no bad memories to hold onto to prevent her from creating with all the force imaginable.

She was a clean sheet of paper in front of him. Ready to be written.

* * *

Ariadne hopped on her tiny sofa in the apartment she shared with two other girls. She turned on the TV on Animal Planet and took a spoon from a glass on the table in front of her. She started eating her yogurt.

From the top of her bag she could see the textbook peering its ugly head.

She would get to that later.

Right now, all she could think about was upside-down-street.

God, that had felt spectacular. Watching the cars drive into a vertical line, cafes exploding into tiny bits of pieces hurting her like hell...

All the previous nights she had struggled to dream the same dream but to no avail.

Now she was stuck in a mind-set, with no wish to work for school.

She sank her head in a cushion. She fell asleep.

When she woke up, it was already afternoon and Lily was sitting next to her, reading a magazine.

'Why didn't you wake me up?' Ariadne asked, groggily.

'Your phone's been beeping like mad,' Lily replied, not looking up from her magazine.

'Gods, Ari, what are those sketches you got there? Streets between roofs?'

'You med students just don't get art,' Ariadne joked, getting up.

'And you artists don't get paid,' Lily bit back, grinning.

Ariadne ran to her room to hide her sketches. She found her phone on the bed. She sat down on the edge of it and looked over her new messages.

'A call from dad, a message from Annie, one from David...' she muttered, '...and unknown number?'

She clicked on it.

_If you change your mind, you know where to find us. C._

Ariadne's breath got caught in her throat. Unless her cat Cleo could use a phone...

She lay back on the bed, breathing hard. Her head was spinning. She looked up at her ceiling and saw a corner of her car sketch.

'Cobb...' she mumbled.


	3. Chapter 3

3. Late

When Dom arrived back in Paris the days were already shorter and it was colder outside. The sky was cerulean grey and people walked under red umbrellas. But the boulevards were as lit and lively as ever. The silver golden colours of the wide windows and tall, glass buildings were reflected in the trembling water of the Seine. The cafes closed their terraces after seven, but people would still loiter outside with coffees in their hands, looking inside. The boutiques on Montmartre were selling Christmas trinkets in November.

The first thing he did, or at least wanted to do, when he came back was to sleep for ten hours straight to recover the days spent in half-conscience in Mombasa. It proved to be a hard task. Dreamless sleep was not an effort anymore, but sleep of any kind seemed impossible to him at the moment.

Tomorrow morning he would go see Arthur. Arthur couldn't see him in such a rotten state. He had to have his rest.

He took some pills. He made himself some tea. He started reading. He went over the plans he was going to discuss with Arthur. He tried calling his children again. Their grandmother answered and, upon hearing his voice, hung up.

He started thinking about Mal. He had one PASIV with him. All he had to do was hook himself up. In a matter of moments he would be next to her, telling her how much he loved her again. She would smile and call him silly and they would hold hands on the couch in their apartment.

He was very tempted to do that. And he came very close to it, actually. But at the last minute, he got up weakly, dragged himself into the bathroom and ducked his head under the shower.

The cold streams running down his back and his chest made him feel a little bit more at ease, but as he sank down in the tub and let the cold water soak his suit, he realized that the hotel room wouldn't do. It reminded him too much of _their_ own hotel room. Not that he had never been reminded before. Most hotels had that effect on him now.

But this particular room he had been given – the windows opened to another building and he could see Mal hanging loosely from the sill of the neighbouring window. It just wouldn't do.

And if he shut the window, he could hear glass breaking under his feet whenever he walked across the floor.

His watch told him it was half past six in the afternoon. If he hurried now, he could still catch Miles at the college. He was always the latest there anyways.

* * *

The corridor had blinking lights. Which is to say, some of the lamps hanging from the wall were going on and off. It was almost dark outside, not enough for the windows to go entirely black, but enough for the city lights to shine through them like fireflies.

There was next to no one in that part of the college and scarcely any student. He thought he had taken a wrong way, because he wasn't any closer to finding Miles' study.

When he eventually found the place, the door was locked and his assistant was missing, so he must have left the place after all, earlier than he had anticipated.

But he still held the hope he'd find him hiding in one of the auditoriums again. So he looked through the windows of the doors as he passed by, thinking he might see a glimpse of the old man who was such a comfort to him.

The more he walked though, the more he realized he was looking in vain. He was not here. And he still wouldn't be here, no matter how much he continued looking.

Every door afforded him the same view. Empty rooms, empty auditoriums, empty offices.

Deserted hallways. And the corridors, they were all leading nowhere.

And at the corners, he thought he caught a glimpse of two small children holding hands, one of them, a young little boy, bending down to catch something, the other a tall pretty girl with warm, brown hair waving in an inexistent breeze.

They were going to turn around and look at him.

'David, give it back, you ass! Stop taking my stuff!'

He was arrested in his step by the voice. It sounded very familiar. It was coming from afar. He heard giggles and muffled shouts. Someone threw something against the wall.

His heart started racing. Where was his totem? Was it in his pocket? He couldn't feel it. It had to be there.

One of the doors flew open. A lanky boy with short, tousled black hair walked out of the class room holding a bottle of water in his right hand and a huge block of files under his left arm. He was grinning to his ears.

'Ari, want me to bring you a coffee or something?' David asked.

'I'll toss it right into your face! Now let me work.'

'Geez, woman, a simple no would suffice!'

'I had to chase you around this room five times for _my_ ruler. I can be as verbose as I like.'

'Oh, shut up, already, you've been working at that damn think for three hours. Don't you think it's time to quit?'

But Dom couldn't hear the answer to David's question because the door was shut in his face. The boy sighed and walked away, shaking his head in a disapproving gesture.

Dom noticed the door hadn't been shut properly. It was slightly ajar. He approached it casually, meaning to say hello to Ariadne.

It was just a coincidence that she was here so late. But if she was here, he might take this chance to talk to her about coming back.

When he peered through the half-open the door, he saw that the classroom was actually a small workshop. The floor was scattered with large papers filled from top to bottom with unintelligible sketches.

Ariadne was hunched at a small desk in a corner, looking over a drawing board. He chuckled to himself. This room looked like his old dorm room in college.

He was about to knock on the door, when she got up, yawned loudly and took off the slightly large blue sweater she was wearing. She revealed a small black tank top underneath.

Ariadne threw the sweater on a chair nearby. Her hair was tied up in a bun with one of her scarves. The small muscles on her arms flexed as she pulled each arm tightly around her shoulder.

Dom remained silent and watched her walk around the crammed room, massaging her back with her fingers and trying to relax. She hung her head down and sighed.

A lamppost from outside cast a yellow, bleak light down her arched neck.

Then, without any warning, she knelt and pulled one of the sketches away from the others. She lay down on her stomach, her legs sprawled all the way to the door.

She looked like a giant white butterfly.

She picked up one of her pencils from a small wooden box and began reshaping some lines.

The scarf in her bun fell over her exposed back, caressing it like a soft whisper.

Dom broke his stare and finally looked over the sketch she was working at.

As he realized what it was, he couldn't help the small smile that spread over his features. He recognized that maze. Arthur must have given her homework.

That could only mean one thing.

She had come back.

He took one last look at her small figure and walked away from the door, the smile still tugging at the corner of his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

_I would like to thank all the amazing reviewers and readers, thanks so much for the support! Please tell me what you think, if you have time, I'm curious to know your thoughts on this couple._

_ I personally love Inception (thought I should make that clear though I think it is already obvious) and I particularly loved these two characters and their amazing struggle to help each other. Ariadne was the hero of the story for me, as it should be since she is their guide, mythologically speaking, and she really did save everyone. All the characters have a special place in my heart but Ari and Dom are my favourite. And I thought there should have been more scenes with them. Does anyone else agree? _

_Anyways, I hope you like this chapter :)

* * *

_

4. Smile

The last thing Arthur heard from her before putting her on the PASIV was:

'Don't think that I'll have forgotten my questions when I wake up!'

After that she was sound asleep, fully immersed in her dream.

He sighed in relief. This last warning had come as a result of him not answering all the five hundred questions she had asked before. Even though it was just ten in the morning, he felt awfully tired. If he had to take another one of her absurd questions he would have to call it a day and go sink his head in a bucket of cold water.

He had achieved next to nothing that morning, mainly because she had a clear knack for keeping him from doing his job.

He could still hear her loud and obnoxious voice ringing in his ears.

_Could you dismember one of the PASIVs for me? Or could you at least tell me how it was built exactly? Or maybe explain to me its main components? Who was its initial creator? I mean, who thought of it first? Does it have a certain prototype? It's a very odd machine and I simply must understand how it works. _

_You know, Arthur, this needle is really painful. I mean it is really uncomfortable to use. It reminds me of hospitals too much and I really hate those. What do you mean the needle doesn't hurt at all? Of course it does. It's a needle. It goes through skin. If something pierces you it usually hurts. I mean when something goes through the epidermis and destroys a portion of the shallow surface of the skin the nerves will produce a sensation of pain. At least, that's my basic biology. No, I don't fall asleep before I feel it because the sting of the needle is what makes me fall asleep in the first place so you can't help the feeling. _

_Is dying really the only way of escaping a dream? Because in all my usual dreams I simply wake up when my brain decides it is fully rested or when exterior stimuli wake me. Or I wake up with a jolt, but that rarely happens. This isn't a usual dream? So death applies only to this kind of dreaming? All dreaming then? But this is the sole method of waking up from lucid dreaming? _

_A kick? What is exactly a kick? Then why did you say that death was the only solution if there is also another one? It is the only certain solution? So a kick is not fully effective. There's a lot of risk here, why do people even use a kick then? What do you mean I started the whole discussion?_

_How can you tell your projections from other people's projections? You just do? Isn't that a little bit silly? Well, you said the whole process if scientifically proven. Well then, what if both you and the target have similar acquaintances? Will they show up in the dream? It doesn't usually matter? How can it not matter what kind of projections you have? Isn't that the main problem? That you are chased by projections? Not your projections? Well then, what about Cobb and his wife? That is a horrible situation. Why is that off-topic?_

If he had to blame anyone for her overly-exaggerate curiosity it would have to be him. He had to go back to their very first shared dream when he had shown her the Penrose stairs. He had been a little bit too nice and talkative for his own good and this is where it had led him. After that she was an incessant chatter-box.

_Could I ask you something and you wouldn't get upset?_

_How old are you exactly?_

_I mean you do not look much older than me. Maybe a little. _

_Really? Does that mean that you got involved in this when you were in high-school? I don't believe you! You must have been extremely good. You entered your first dream when you were nineteen? That is awesome!_

He chuckled. He would be lying though, if he didn't admit to himself that she was pleasant in her own way.

She was a good listener. At least there was that. She was all eyes and ears whenever he had to teach her something. She even liked taking notes in her college notebooks.

She was a good at being a student.

What happened after she stopped taking notes and started asking questions was what gave him headaches.

Now that she was finally silent and unconscious he felt a bit more at ease.

This is how Dom found them when he entered the warehouse.

Ariadne was fast asleep on a lawn chair and Arthur was working at his desk, checking her from time to time.

'I was expecting you earlier,' Arthur greeted him as they shook hands. 'I see Mombasa hasn't ruffled your feathers.'

'Eames will drop by this afternoon. He's already got some ideas prepared. He's really looking forward to working with _you_ again,' Dom replied, avoiding the subject of Mombasa.

Arthur snorted in disbelief and turned towards Ariadne with a shake of his head.

'As always, you were right. She _did_ come back.'

Dom had glanced at her briefly before entering the room. The glance had only offered him a small glimpse of a little girl sleeping in a giant chair. He was trying to avoid looking at her now, though, because he could see her better in this light and he wasn't exactly keen on that. Why he wasn't keen remained a mystery to him. He just knew he was not.

'I see she has.'

'She said she couldn't stay away, as hard as she tried. She said it was pure creation. That's how it is with the new ones; they always get addicted quickly.'

Dom nodded his head absently.

'Did you do everything I said?'

'I did as you instructed. I showed her most of the tricks, I taught her the paradoxes and gave her the assignments. She's doing well. She's a hard-working person and she's getting the hang of things really quick,' he told him in a clipped, clean voice, almost as if he was reciting a poem.

'What about _her_? Do we have enough information on her?'

'Everything there is to know really.'

'Any troubling aspects in her past? Anything we should be worried about?'

'You mean anything to interfere with the dream. Well, she's had a very uneventful life until she came to Paris. Really, she is a rather boring subject.'

'Are you sure there's nothing we should consider?'

'Not unless you think having a loving family, a little brother, two cats and a big white-fenced house back in Trenton is extremely relevant.'

For some reason Dom found this information rather irritating. Not that it affected him in any way, but it was another evident proof that she was just a carefree young girl with no exceptional past, struggling with no issues, unaware of the evils and miseries of life, completely unready for what was about to happen and an innocent victim of the machinations of greedy men looking for power.

'Is she ready to take on her own dream?' he asked carefully. 'Lucid dreaming is not for amateurs.'

Arthur sighed.

'She insisted. I tried telling her otherwise, but once she got hold of the idea, she wouldn't let me do anything else. She can be quite irritating. I've never met anyone in my life who asked so many questions,' Arthur concluded, shaking his head.

Dom chuckled.

'You're losing your touch then, Arthur. She's _supposed_ to ask questions. She's new to all of this. And the more she knows the more prepared she will be. So it's all for the better.'

'You mean the more she knows about building a dream. I don't think you'd want her to know anything else,' Arthur said meaningfully.

'Yes, I wouldn't want that,' he agreed, the creases on his forehead deepening.

'Honestly though, where on Earth did Miles find such a student? I'm seriously considering taking a break for the day. She's rather…tiring to be around.'

'You're acting like an old man. Get a grip. She's just an intelligent young architect. I think you can handle it,' Dom replied.

'You try spending some hours with her and then tell me I am acting like an old man,' Arthur retorted.

'Why don't you go study these files while I wake her up?' Dom asked, getting tired of his attitude. He handed him his briefcase.

Arthur nodded his head and complied, taking it from him and walking towards a far-off corner of the room.

* * *

Ariadne was adding the finishing touches to a small maze disguised as a large hospital. You'd go in but you couldn't come out. And once inside you were stuck walking in four directions, each leading to the other one.

She was resting on a bench in front of the building, thinking of ways to make it more intricate than it already was, when she heard a voice coming towards her like a gust of wind.

'Impressive. We could use this on one of the levels.'

Ariadne's head whipped around so fast that she thought her neck was going to break.

'The hospital I mean,' Dom added, looking over it in interest.

'Is it really you or is it a projection?' she asked, stepping away from him.

'If I were a projection I wouldn't be able to do this,' he said and a winding alley appeared around the hospital.

'So, you entered my dream, Cobb?'

'I was curious to see what you were building.'

'I was just trying something on my own,' she said awkwardly. 'Arthur told me not to, but…'

'You didn't listen. He told me,' he said smiling. 'He said you can be very stubborn.'

'Stubbornness isn't always a bad thing. It's usually how humanity makes any progress. It's also much more convenient to do things your way,' she said quickly, arching her eyebrows.

Dom hid a chuckle and nodded his head.

'May I go in the hospital then?'

'You'd get lost, really.'

'Then show me the way,' he replied. And he thought it was pretty ironic that he was asking a girl called Ariadne show him the path through a maze. He was surprised it had not hit him before.

She complied and showed him the way inside the hospital. They started walking down one of the larger corridors.

'This leads to a fake wall that looks like the third corridor that leads back to the second which takes you to the first and then to a dead end that looks like the third corridor again. Now we're following the fourth corridor which should lead to the second floor where I've put a paradox…' she babbled, pointing in all directions.

Dom had to admit that her way of explaining thing was head-ache inducing, but he was pleasantly surprised by the complexity of the maze and her sheer enthusiasm for building something so painfully intricate. He was also a bit impressed that she had such a clear view on this impossible mess. He wouldn't be able to get around so well even if this was his own construction. But he forgot she was a young, tireless mind.

'I hope there is no bad blood between us from our last dream together,' Dom spoke suddenly.

She stopped in her tracks and looked back at him, slightly embarrassed.

'Unless your wife appears again, I suppose not,' she replied at length. 'I should apologize though. Arthur told me about her. I didn't know she was…I mean I had no idea…'

'It's alright, you have no reason to apologize, I was the one who wasn't careful enough.'

'Maybe, but I ran out of there cursing like a sailor. I should have controlled my temper at least a little bit. Of course when you get stabbed to death you tend to overreact,' she said, pushing some hair out of her face.

He chuckled.

'Mal is a bit hard to control at times, but I can usually manage. I'm sorry you had to see that.'

'I suppose you wouldn't tell me more about her, would you? Why she appears in your dreams? Why she is bothering you so much? I know it must relate to her death, but…'

Dom shook his head and turned away, clearly showing her he had no intention to talk about that.

'I can't discuss that with you. It shouldn't concern you either way,' he spoke.

'But if we go in the dream again and she appears, I'm afraid it is my…'

'Well, you won't go in the dream, Ariadne. You're only the architect. You don't actually go inside the dream. You simply design it.'

Ariadne's face fell. Clearly, she was disappointed.

'Of course, I should have suspected that. I thought Arthur was just saying that to get me off his back. But it's actually true.'

'You wouldn't want to be involved in the actual job, believe me. And it would be very dangerous for someone like you.'

'Someone like me?'

'Someone this young and inexperienced.'

Ariadne felt a bit self-conscious. She untied her red jacket from her waist and pulled it over her shoulders.

'I'll forgive you for the Mal incident, if you answer me at least one question,' she said, smiling slightly.

Dom was taken aback by this. Was she trying to blackmail him?

'Ariadne, I can't discuss Mal with you…' he began.

'Just hear me out.'

'Fine then,' he agreed, a sigh escaping his mouth.

'What were you doing in Mombasa?' she asked warily, searching his face for any unpleasant reaction.

But he smiled.

'That I _can _answer. I was searching for a forger.'

'A what?'

'A forger.'

'Wait, you mean the kind of person that forges money? I know you told me this was illegal but I thought you meant that in the theoretical sense of the…'

'No, no, he would be acting as a dream forger. He would impersonate someone in the dream.'

'Whoa! Really? People can do that in a dream?' she asked, her face breaking into an amazed grin.

'Sure. It takes a hell of a lot of work, but technically yes. He would appear as a different person to the target and his projections.'

'Wow that is freaking amazing! I wish I could do that. Imagine how many things you could achieve with that! Will I get to meet him?' she asked giddily.

Dom laughed despite himself. She really was a little kid.

'You'll have to work with him, so yes, you will get to meet him. His name is Eames.'

'Eames? What kind of name is that?' she asked amused.

'British one if I had to guess.'

'He's British too? So he's even cooler than I thought! But if he's impersonating an American in a dream can he change his accent?'

Dom was starting to agree with Arthur that she had an odd way with questions. But it was highly amusing.

'He takes the form of that person entirely. He studies that person well enough to be able to sound and act like him exactly.'

'Brilliant! He's definitely got to teach me how to do that.'

'In the mean time, you should focus on your own job.'

'Don't worry, I can do both. I won't let you down,' she said grinning.

Dom couldn't help the feeling of sadness overcoming him. He was going to take a perfectly happy and innocent young girl into a world of lies and deceiving.

It's as if she didn't even know what kind of job this was.

He envied her. He envied everything about her; her serenity, her cheerfulness, her desire to create, her carefree spirit, her ability to make him smile. And most of all he envied the way she was so unaware of Mal and of what she could do. She was free of her, whereas he was not.

* * *

When she blinked her eyes open and noticed the man sitting in the lounge chair next to her she couldn't help but feel intimidated.

In the dream it had been much easier to approach him and talk to him. In the dream, she had felt like they were the same or that she could talk to him on the same level, the way she talked to professor Miles, who was more like another father to her. In the real world he was a dangerous stranger with conflicting ideas and a very troubled past, most likely. He wasn't someone you'd want to be overly friendly with.

Still, Ariadne was inordinately brave.

After a while, she decided to ask him. He had brought her a glass of water.

'I'm sorry, but did you happen…I mean, was it you that…' she began, stammering.

'Yes?' he asked.

'I got this message and I was wondering if it was from you,' she blurted out. 'I received it some days ago and I…'

'I really don't know what you're talking about,' he said, smiling kindly and handing her the glass.

She stared at him perplexed. Then she understood.

And she smiled back.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews! This chapter is a tad short, but I hope you like it :) _

5. Daughter_  
_

The first thing Eames told Cobb when his eyes fell on the young girl sitting at one of the desks in the warehouse, her legs pulled underneath her, her back hunched over some documents, her blue scarf round her naked shoulders, was:

'Please tell me I haven't grown this old and that she's not actually Phillipa.'

She was such a curious sight in the middle of this unwelcoming, bare, desolate place. Eames couldn't be blamed. She looked like the sort of child who brought colour and sunshine wherever she went.

Dom opened his mouth to correct him. Certainly she wasn't his daughter. She could never be his daughter. The age difference wasn't that big. She was twenty-two, he was thirty-five. Thirteen years did not make her his daughter. But it gave him a dizzy, almost nauseous feeling to think that she wasn't yet born when he was learning about fractions.

If Phillipa ever grew up to be such a singular young woman he would be happy.

Ariadne peeked at them from the corner of her eye. She suppressed a smile and rose from her chair.

'Eames this is our new architect, Ariadne.'

'Hello,' she said politely, shaking his hand firmly, trying to seem older than she looked, 'I've heard so much about you. You must be the forger Cobb has been telling me about. Is it hard being a forger these days?'

Eames thought she meant the question more as a joke – the way people asked 'is it hard being a lawyer these days?'

But no, he hadn't been prepared like Arthur had. He could not know it was just the first out of the hundreds of questions Ariadne would ask him that day.

She got right to it, without even wondering whether he had something else to do or whether he minded it.

Most wo – well, young girls he knew – weren't this bold and direct around him, because he had that sort of effect on them. They certainly didn't talk as much and they wouldn't have the courage to ask him so many questions. That's because his charm was undeniable and no female could ignore it.

Well, he was wrong. There was one who could. And she was standing right before him, completely unfazed by the fact that he was an international thief and a wanted man, at that. Of course, she had a very funny habit of saying 'if you don't mind telling me' before every question, as if she was trying to be polite and discreet, which he believed were two notions quite foreign to her.

Unlike Arthur though, he came out of the experience perfectly unscathed. In fact, after an hour spent in her presence, he was quite sure he liked her. She was someone you'd want to be around even if she was a bit of a headache now and then.

The first chance he got to speak to Cobb in private again, however, he made sure to let him know his concerns.

'What are you doing with this girl exactly? Have you even talked her to her? Does she even know what she's getting into? Her mind is uncorrupted Cobb. She's not like us. Think of what you're doing.'

'I know what I'm doing, Eames.'

'Oh, do you? Because you don't seem to, if you ask me. Taking on such a young architect and...'

'I'm doing my job,' he continued undeterred. 'Just like you are. Except I'm doing it so I can get home, to my children, and if she's what it takes to get me there, I won't hesitate to use her work,' Dom retorted.

He knew the last part was a lie. He didn't care.

Eames chuckled softly and nodded his head.

'I take it back. She couldn't be Phillipa. You wouldn't do this to your own daughter.'

Eames never brought the subject up after that.

But an idea is a parasite. And it only took a couple of words from Eames to settle it in his mind.

Dom knew he was going to hurt Ariadne.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey, everyone, new chapter is up. I know I'm writing at a fast pace but I can't get enough of this story, as corny as that sounds. I am simply fascinated by this pair and I must continue their journey. Thanks so much to everyone for reviewing and reading. You and Arcade Fire make my day. Speaking of which, Arcade Fire's Half Light I inspired this chapter. _

_Please tell me what you think :) _

_Hugs. _

* * *

6. Understanding

In the evening, Arthur received a call from Saito that Yusuf would arrive in Paris at nine o'clock.

'Tomorrow morning we will discuss the general plan with everyone. Ariadne and Yusuf have to be filled in,' Arthur told Cobb before taking off that night.

The statement had felt like a verdict. It was like a nail being hammered in a coffin.

To his conscious state it only meant that things were advancing. His team was finally set and they could get to some actual work.

To his subconscious state, it meant the beginning of the end. Beyond this job there was a life he was aspiring to, a life with children, a life in peaceful solitude, a life in freedom. Not a life behind bars, not a life with Mal, not a life _here_.

If this job failed, it would be the end. If it succeeded, it would be a new beginning. Therefore, beginnings and endings had a way of becoming one in his head.

His unconscious state was silent. It was like a dark, red creature, sleeping in the midst of all this commotion, waiting to erupt. It looked like a monster trapped in a labyrinth.

All these three men inside of him were raging quietly.

Each one was trying to push the other one below. They were all trying to reach the surface.

In the prescient quiet and warmth of an empty warehouse, this battle was lost on everyone. And he was thinking too much to feel what was happening inside.

He thought he heard, because he wasn't sure, Arthur calling Ariadne to come to the car. He was driving her home.

'I will be out in a minute! You can warm up the car!' she told him, rushing inside to gather her things which were scattered all around her desk.

Arthur rolled his eyes and smiled as he walked casually to the car. Last time he had driven her home she had crammed his backseat with bags and maps, portfolios and books. He really hoped it wouldn't be the case tonight. Small hopes, however, knowing her.

She had dumped a large part of the desk's drawer in her heavy, green bag and was now on all four on the floor, trying to find her mp3 player. She crawled under her desk.

That is how Dom found her exactly.

'Looking for something?' he asked in surprise.

Ariadne almost bumped her head against the desk as she got up.

'Oh, Cobb, I didn't know you were still here. Just looking for Kenny.'

'Sorry, who?' he asked confused.

'My mp3 player. Have you seen it anywhere? It has a yellow sticker on it. It's got to be around here somewhere.'

He smiled despite himself.

'Well, you can find it _tomorrow_, it will still be here,' he told her, his voice hoarse. The word 'tomorrow' had fallen off his lips like a heavy weight.

'Well, I would've needed it tonight. I've got some of my courses on it,' she explained, smiling sheepishly. 'I have this homework you see...'

'Are you still doing school work?' he asked all of a sudden.

'Well, yes, a little bit. What I can manage. I can keep up with both assignments, really. Though of course, I enjoy what I do here more than anything,' she said.

Cobb sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead.

'I think I'm going to need your focus on this job more. I'm sure you can catch up with your courses afterwards. You're a stellar student, aren't you?' he asked, his voice a little colder than intended.

'I don't know if I'd ever call myself stellar, but I am pretty good, that is unless I slack. So I try not to do that. But don't worry. I know you want me on the job 24/7. Well, at least, as much as I can be. Arthur told me I would need to be here early tomorrow.'

'Yes. From now on you have to be here at 10 sharp. So I'm afraid you're going to have to cut some classes for a while,' he reiterated.

His voice was downright harsh now. It was still soft and calm, but it was undeniably demanding. He looked irritated.

She noticed he was put off. She stopped smiling and turned serious.

'I understand,' she replied, nodding firmly.

'I need you to take this seriously,' he repeated.

'I am,' she said without blinking.

'I need this to be your priority.'

'It's the only thing I think about. I give it all my work and dedication, I assure you,' she said.

He nodded absently, staring at her small shadow reflected on the ground.

'It's the only thing I _can_ think about,' she repeated.

He shook his head. She didn't see, he didn't need _this _kind of commitment. He didn't want her to submit herself to the dream. He just wanted her to be like Arthur, detached, but still engaged.

She didn't want this thing to consume her.

'I don't want you thinking _that_,' he replied, his voice laden with guilt.

'Then, what _would _you have me thinking?' she asked boldly, her eyes expectant.

The tone of her question felt like an accusation.

He was contradicting himself. He had told her from the beginning she could do anything.

This was, Ariadne, the girl who reminded him of himself. How could he make her be any different if he couldn't even change himself?

'I'm not trying to make you think anything, Ariadne. I'm just telling you what I expect from you. I'm just trying to...'

'Hey...'

He blinked in confusion.

Her warmth invaded his space. She was now two steps away from him. How had she gotten there? How had she moved so fast?

'I get it,' she said gently.

She barely reached his shoulder. The distance between them was made more obvious by his height.

'I do. It means the world to you,' she spoke quietly into his chest. 'I'd do anything for my children too.'

His eyes widened. She barely knew anything about him or his children. He knew Arthur couldn't have told her much. She only knew that his children were in the States. She knew nothing more. For Christ's Sake, she didn't even know what they were doing or what they were going to do.

Who was she to pretend to know him?

He looked down at her soft head and her soft curls tracing the line of her jaw. If he pushed her away, he would be better.

'Trust me, I will do all that I can,' she added, lifting her head to meet his gaze. It was unwavering.

Before he had a chance to tell her anything, she had turned on her heels, grabbed her bag from the desk hastily and walked away from him.

The cold air from outside hit his face when she opened the door.

She mumbled a good night and her small figure was lost to the night.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey everyone, back with new chapter once again. Thanks to all of you who've read and reviewed, you guys are lovely :) Hope to hear more from you. _

_Please tell me what you think and enjoy!_

7. Jacket

'Do you remember when we first met?' Mal asked, brushing a lock of hair from his face, tenderly.

He chuckled.

'Yes. Miles introduced us. You were walking down the stairs with several notebooks in your arms. He told you I was the exchange student. You were hostile and wary. You didn't trust foreigners.'

'Especially Americans,' she added laughing.

'Yes, you made that clear. When Miles told you we would be working on a project together you practically scowled.'

'I did not!' Mall shrieked laughing.

'I was there, I remember well,' Dom argued. 'You had the most charming frown on your little face. Your lip was curled up and your eyes were glaring.'

'I can't believe you still remember those details,' she whispered, smiling to herself and looking out the window.

'I could never forget. Your face was glowing. You were so small and…'

'I wasn't that small. I was actually quite tall for my age,' Mal corrected him, giving him a knowing look.

'No, that's impossible,' he said laughing. 'Well, I saw you like that, delicate, like a flower. Your face was glowing.'

'Oh, how silly. I was not a flower! And I certainly didn't look delicate! You saw something else,' she said, smiling.

Dom shook his head slightly. 'No, it was you.'

'Or the way you chose to see me,' Mal corrected him, smiling to herself again.

Dom chuckled again.

'You were really confident, but still, I remember, you had this ridiculous red jacket you kept playing with. Nerves I suppose.'

Mal frowned in confusion.

'What red jacket?'

Dom stared at her surprised. 'Don't you remember? That red jacket you were wearing. The one that made you look like a young girl.'

Mal shook her head warily and pulled her hand away from his.

'I don't remember that… I had no red jacket. Just my yellow skirt and a white blouse with a blue scarf. You're imagining things again.'

'No, but I saw it on you, I could've sworn you were wearing one,' Dom insisted, his forehead turning into small creases.

'I wasn't wearing any red jacket.'

'Maybe you don't remember it now...'

'Maybe it wasn't me you saw,' Mal bit back, growing annoyed.

'Of course it was you! Who else was I going to see?'

'I don't know,' she replied coldly. 'Maybe you are not thinking of me.'

Dom tried taking her hand in his again but she scowled and pushed his hand away.

'I'm fine,' she said.

'I only think of you, Mal,' Dom said, looking out the window as well. 'I don't know…I just thought, the red jacket…'

'Dom.'

'Mal, you're always on my mind,' he said, feeling the words being strangled in his throat.

'Then why did you hire an architect?' Mal suddenly asked, her eyes darkening.

'Wh-what?'

'The architect. Why did you need an architect?'

'Mal, you know why. She is necessary to the job.'

'Oh, don't give me that! Why do you need her, really? She is a child. What are you going to accomplish with a child?'

Dom shut his eyes and breathed in.

'Mal, I need her to build for me.'

'Why? You don't need an architect. You can build yourself.'

'That's just it, Mal. You won't let me. And I know I won't be able to build with you on my mind. I can't do this with you there, I need to keep you here, safe with me.'

'Sounds like you want to get rid of me, actually. If you wanted me, you would build. You would build a new world for us, where I could live.'

'God, Mal, you don't know how much I want that, but…'

'But what? What's stopping you? Or who? Arthur, Miles…is it _her _then?'

'Mal, this has nothing to do with her. Why would you even mention her?'

'Why would you? Isn't this _your _dream?' she asked maliciously. 'It is clear you want to talk about her. She is a problem, isn't she?'

'Why would she be a problem, Mal?'

'Because you feel guilty. You feel guilty about her. It seems you have room for one more blame in your head. It means the pain you feel for me has diminished,' she bit back.

'I live with that pain every second of my damn life! And the only thing keeping me from jumping like you did is our children!' he yelled, feeling his patience breaking into pieces.

'She is a child too, Dom. Do you think of her as your own child?' Mal asked, smiling bitterly. 'Or do you treat her like an adult? Because you have been exceedingly open with her.'

'I haven't told her anything! I'll never tell her the truth. I'll never tell her about us!'

'But you will. You will do it, because her mind is free and she is not burdened and you need someone like that to take on all the guilt and misery from you,' Mal spat. 'It has always been your constant weakness. Because you are a coward when you are alone.'

'You are being absurd,' Dom muttered angrily.

'You are on the verge, Dom. You are so close to telling her.'

'I am keeping her away!' Dom protested. 'She knows nothing about me!'

'And the first time you will bring her in your dreams, I will tell her what you really are. She will see you as the man you really are. And she will run away,' she continued, laughing. 'And you will be alone again. I will make sure you are alone.'

Dom's face started crumbling into his hands. He put a palm over his eyes. He wanted to see darkness, he wanted to hear darkness.

'Don't do this to me...' he mumbled.

'I'm not the monster here, Dom,' she said softly, placing her cold fingers over his forehead. 'You are.'

Dom laughed bitterly and dragged his palm over his face slowly, trying to burn his anger, trying to let go of this feeling of hate. Trying not to rip her apart.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted the kiss to sear her body and erase her mind and put her to sleep.

He met her eyes.

'I love you,' he whispered groggily.

'I know,' she replied simply, shrugging her shoulders. 'But that's not enough.'

'Why?' Dom asked in torment.

'Because _she_ was wearing the red jacket.'

* * *

The needle hurt for the very first time. The warehouse was black.

* * *

_So...who can see the not so clever parallels between Mal and Cobb's first meeting and Ari and Cobb's? Yeah, I am just so subtle :) But it is more of a coincidence that shows how strange, cruel and giving life can be. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, guys, so here is the embarrassingly long due chapter I was supposed to put up. Really sorry about the delay.**

**This chapter is a bit on the sensitive side since it deals with the erm _ethics _of Inception. And that's a tricky cookie.**

**But I've always felt Ariadne grew too easily accustomed to the demands of the job and maybe accepted its conditions too quickly. I always saw her as a very morally-ground kind of person and I'm surprised there was no scene about her reaction to the job in the movie, but I suppose there was no time for that. Either way, this is my version of her own stand on the Fischer situation and I hope it is realistic and in character, because trying to stay in character can be so damn hard when you tend to project (Inception pun!) your own ideas and beliefs on characters. So I hope I was faithful enough. Enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think.**

**P.S. Thanks so much reviewers and readers, you know who you are :) Keep rocking like you do :)**

8. Ethics

'Yes, Ariadne?' Eames asked, when he noticed the girl had raised her hand.

He was in the middle of his presentation. The flipchart was filled with images of Robert Fischer Jr. and his father.

'May I intervene?' she asked politely.

Eames and Arthur shared a meaningful look, but Cobb coughed and told her to proceed.

'Thank you. I would like to ask, have any of you considered the ethical ramifications of what we are about to do?'

The question fell between them like a hammer hitting the floor.

Eames narrowed his eyes in confusion and doubt. Arthur was at a loss for words as he stared at his shoes.

Cobb was the only one who kept looking at her.

'What do you mean, Ariadne?'

'Just what I said. This job does not only cancel out legal boundaries, for which I have less concern since legality isn't the same as morality, but it also annuls a couple of human rights.'

'How so?' Cobb asked interested.

'Do I have to spell it out for everyone? We are treating Robert like an object, worse even, like a 'mark', as if he is only a pretext, a disposable casualty. Meanwhile, we care nothing about him as a human being.'

'Ariadne, darling, we were not hired to care,' Eames interrupted. 'And we certainly don't intend to harm the man in any way. We are just here to change his mind. That is all we are going to do. What he does afterwards with his life will be no fault of ours.'

'That's nice in theory, but there's a little thing called mind control and from what you've told me that's basically what we'd be doing to him. We'd leave him no choice, we'd force him into making a decision.'

'Hey, you knew full well this is what we do; we invade people's minds,' Arthur suddenly said. 'I fail to comprehend how this is suddenly a big surprise to you. A bit hypocritical, don't you think?'

'Well, excuse me Arthur, but I was led to believe we'd 'invade people's minds', as you put it, for a good reason. And by _good_ I mean justifiable in the eyes of both parties.'

Cobb watched her warily. He didn't know how to respond to her sudden attacks. He was not used to her acting so mature and level-headed all of a sudden. He was used to her being somewhat childish and charming. He knew she had a strong set of principles, but what he didn't know was how much she actually cared about them. He was slightly taken aback.

'Who led you to believe that exactly?' Eames asked.

Ariadne quickly glanced at Cobb.

'Ah, I see, the Fallen Architect. No use taking advice from him darling. Direct all questions to me next time,' Eames replied, biting his cheek.

Cobb glared at him.

'I certainly did not give Ariadne any false ideas about our mission,' Cobb spoke up. 'If anything, I've tried to make it easier for her.'

'Well maybe you shouldn't have done that,' Ariadne said getting up hastily and leaving the room.

'Should...we go running after her? Like in the movies?' Eames asked, scratching his head.

They all stared at him annoyed.

'We should just let her cool off for a while. She'll come to her senses,' Arthur suggested.

'And this is why your contribution is irrelevant. Cobb? Care to be the sensitive one?'

'Just stay here and try not to kill each other,' Dom muttered as he grabbed his jacket and left the room.

* * *

He found Ariadne standing by one of the tall windows in the warehouse. She had cracked it open. The sun was shining on her face and hiding her expression from him.

He could tell she was more than angry though. She was sad. He saw it in her hunched shoulders, in the hair falling in her face, in the way her fingers clutched the window sill in an attempt to hold onto something.

He approached her quietly. He was about to touch her shoulder, but just as his hand hovered over arm, she suddenly moved and turned away from him.

'Ariadne, we need to talk.'

She walked across the warehouse and opened the door.

'Where are you going?' he yelled.

'Out for some air,' she yelled back.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This was not going as planned. He should have known.

He ran after her.

For a short girl, she moved fast. Already she was on the other side of the street, crossing an alley into a small park.

'Ariadne, wait a minute!'

She kept walking. He followed her.

Eventually he managed to catch up to her because the park was filled with children and she was not getting through easily.

'Can you please stop running from me?'

'I'm not running from you. Just the team. And maybe you too.'

Cobb rolled his eyes. 'Yeah, I thought so. We might as well deal with this like adults.'

'Fine. I'm sorry about storming out. I'll just bottle up my feelings like an _adult _from now on,' she muttered.

'No, that would be the childish version actually,' he rectified smiling.

'How would you know?'

He chuckled.

Ariadne glared at him. His smile widened. Her frown melted and she smiled back ruefully.

'I know I was right and you are not going to change my mind,' she said instead.

'Oh, I know you are right. That's not even debatable.'

Ariadne cocked an eyebrow. 'Really?'

'Yes. And I and the rest of the team would be stupid not to acknowledge that. It's common sense.'

'That's a step in the right direction,' she replied, her ego growing.

'But it's not common sense for you to claim I misled you. I did no such thing and I will not apologize for that,' he said sternly.

'Very well,' she muttered looking down. 'I did not ask for an apology anyways.'

'Hey, I'm not the bad guy here,' he said taking her arms and turning her towards him.

'Well, no offense but...' she began.

'But what? Have I made you doubt me so far?'

Ariadne narrowed her eyes at him.

'That's not fair. I don't even know you.'

'Just answer the question.'

'Look, you inspire trust because you seem to have good intentions. But this is your job, manipulating people.'

'Do you honestly think I am trying to manipulate you? Or that I have in the past?'

'Cobb...'

'Just listen to me. Saito wants the Fischer enterprise to be divided into several small businesses so he wouldn't have a high competitor on the energy market, right?'

She nodded her head reluctantly.

'Now, if Fischer enterprise remains intact, there will be a constant struggle between the two to outdo each other in terms of financial domination and there will probably be worse consequences than dealing with only one corporate power. Maybe Fischer breaking into several units will be a chance for a new coalition of businesses. Maybe in the leave of his main competitor, Saito will run things differently. Perhaps there will be global changes, for the better or worse. You can't know how these things will evolve Ariadne. You can't know that what we do is wrong or right in the long run. And for that reason you cannot deem it ethical or not. You can only see it as a moral action, but it can always be so much more than that.'

She remained silent for a moment, watching him exhale deeply.

'That's a pretty weak argument, Cobb,' she said, smiling sadly.

'All I am saying is that things are not black and white. And you can't predict what's going to happen or who it will affect. We might even fail for all we know. It might all be in vain. We can't know until we try.'

'And if you fail...?' Ariadne asked.

'Then I never see my children again,' Cobb blurted out. 'Not until I can find someone like Saito who has the power to help me. And in this field, that is a rarity. Because no one with that much power is interested in helping you without demanding something impossible in return.'

Ariadne sighed and pushed his arms away gently.

'I should walk out of this,' she mumbled. 'I should not do this.'

It pained Cobb to hear her talk like this, but he knew that he couldn't make her do anything she did not want to and it wouldn't be fair to her to drag her into this unwillingly.

Eames' words rang in his head like a snide reminder that he was being a selfish, careless bastard.

He couldn't turn her into yet another mistake.

'It's not too late,' he said hoarsely.

'What?'

'If you change your mind that is, you can always go back to school and we'll consider this never happened.'

'Never happened...?'

'If you want that.'

'You'd let me go?' she asked, slightly incredulous.

'I can't keep you by my side with force,' he said, wincing at his own words. He felt his heart grow heavy with remorse. Wasn't he doing the same thing to Mal?

'But what about you?' she asked concerned.

'What about me?'

'Your children...'

'This is about you, not them,' he rectified. 'It's your choice and you are completely free to do whatever you want.'

Ariadne stared into his ocean-deep eyes and shook her head.

'If it were that simple...'

'It is, Ariadne. I'm making it as simple as possible. You only have to make a choice.'

'I wish we could give Robert that choice,' she suddenly said, her shoulders sagging.

'I wish that too,' Cobb confessed.

'Why must we destroy his only good relationship? He's all alone. All he has is his godfather. And we're turning him against the one person who hasn't shown complete disregard in him. That's just horrible.'

'You can't make everyone happy, Ariadne.'

'I know that, but...'

'No matter what you do in life, someone's bound to suffer,' he continued undeterred. 'Someone's bound to be treated unfairly. It's how this world functions and until now, no one has come up with a solution for that. You give and you take, that's how it works. And I'm sorry we can't spare him the pain, but we're giving him a chance to reconcile with his father. Isn't that worth the pain?'

'That will only be in his mind...'

'The catharsis will still be real. He will still feel it as strongly as ever. And weren't you acting so righteous about what we would do to his _mind_?'

'I guess you have a point. But I'm still not convinced and I don't think I'll ever be,' she said bitterly.

'Last night, you told me you understood,' he said quietly, looking over the children at the swings. 'I thought you had meant that.'

Ariadne's eyes widened. She suddenly felt very nervous.

'I do, Cobb...and I meant it. I understand, but it's hard. It's hard for me to accept what I understand.'

'Once you understand, you can't help but accept it,' he said matter-of-factly.

She shook her head, closing her eyes.

'I have faith in you. Remember that,' he said softly.

With that, he took one last glance at her and turned around, walking back towards the warehouse.

* * *

Ariadne stood for a moment, following him with her eyes as he crossed the street and made his way towards the entrance. She liked watching him. He was a fascinating man. Everything about him was new to her at the same time she felt she had known him before.

His presence was familiar but somehow foreign, it was as if he was not supposed to be there, next to her, but there he was, running after her or waking her from a dream.

He showed so little on the surface and so much underneath. He was so patient and yet so stern. He was so desperate and yet so calm. He was like a rock in the middle of the ocean, lost but strong.

'I wish I were like you, Cobb,' she whispered to herself, 'but I'm not lost. I can't lose myself in this.'

There was an easy way out. She could choose to walk the other way and never return again.

Behind her were her old life and a Parisian park. In front of her were the future and a warehouse of mad men. The present was here now, under her feet.

She could choose to be an average human being in the real world, or become an Architect and create impossible worlds in dreams.

Each choice required something from her; it was like Cobb said, give and take.

What was she taking and what was she giving?

* * *

Cobb didn't hear the warehouse door open.

But he knew, although he couldn't see.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi everyone! It's been a while, hasn't it? I know I am a horrible updater, but bear with me. College is not as easy as those movies made it out to be. Now that my first year is finally done I have more time on my hands and more ideas for my Inception fic:) Thanks to everyone for the amazing reviews and for the constructive criticism, it really helps me keep the story in focus.**

**I hope you'll like this new chapter and that you'll share your opinions. :)**

9. Totem

Late that night he thought he was alone in the warehouse. He had heard Arthur leave earlier, talking in hushed tones with Eames about something which the latter had found very amusing. Yusuf must have joined them because when Cobb had called him earlier, he had received no answer.

He was tired, but he knew he couldn't sleep, not until he hooked himself to the PASIV so he could immerse himself into the dream again, the one dream where he could have peace and silence.

Today had been very busy. Busier than usual. But he had been pleased with everyone's work. Most of all, he was impressed with Ariadne, for having chosen to stay and for taking everything so well, despite the fact that she must have been way in over her head at this point. She had already begun working hard which was proof that once she gave her word she stuck to it till the end.

He was under the impression, though, that she was not happy, that something was bothering her. He wondered if, after all, she had chosen to be miserable, instead of choosing what she really wanted. There had been sparse moments during the past couple of days when, looking at her, he feared she had chosen to stay because of him. He knew he was deluding himself, but it might have been a possibility. He might have inspired too much pity, or he might have, by bringing his children and wife into the equation, forced her hand to make her stay. He knew Ariadne would feel, considering her character, morally obliged, which to him was the worst reason for her to stay.

He was dying to ask her. He was dying to get into her head and find out if that was really true. Little did he know, she wanted to do the same thing to him, but for very different reasons.

He sat down on the lounge chair. He had to shake these thoughts out of his mind. He was going in again and there was no point in bringing anything from work down there. Ariadne wasn't exactly work, but she wasn't something he should worry about constantly. She was her own person, she could handle herself. He had to start trusting that she could.

He was leaning against the back of the chair, ready to plunge the needle in, when he saw a dark figure approaching from afar. For a quarter of a moment he panicked, believing it was Mal.

But as the figure came closer, she also grew shorter, until Ariadne, in her natural size, was standing right in front of him, arms crossed, scarf wrapped around her shoulders, a curious and demanding expression on her face.

He instantly got up and put the needle aside.

'Working late?' she asked, tilting her head to the side.

'Hey, I didn't know you were still here. I thought everyone had left.'

'Almost everyone,' she replied smiling.

'Were you going under on your own?' she asked, pointing at the PASIV.

'No, no...just running some experiments,' he said quickly, waving his hand.

'It's a bit late for that,' she said, looking at her watch.

'I can't sleep anyways, so this is actually rest for me,' he confessed.

She frowned. 'Rest?'

Dom suddenly regretted having mentioned that. She might think his experiments were something different altogether.

'Well, it's lighter than my usual stuff,' he corrected himself.

'So, what are you doing here so late, Ariadne?' he asked, changing the subject.

'Oh, I was just er...' she said, growing a bit embarrassed and looking down at her palm. He saw she was clutching something tightly.

'I was just working on my totem, actually,' she replied, revealing the chess piece.

'Oh, a bishop,' he said, pointing at it. 'Fitting with your last name.'

'I was wracking my brains the other day for an idea and then I thought I should probably take advantage of my own name,' she said, smiling.

'Here...let me take a look,' he said, walking towards her purposely.

Ariadne quickly pulled the totem to her side, shaking her head amused.

Dom smiled, feeling the welcome surge of pride.

'So you're learning, huh,' he said, nodding his head approvingly.

'An elegant solution for keeping track of reality,' she said, looking down at her totem.

Dom frowned. The words sounded strangely familiar.

'Was it your idea?' she asked.

'No...it was Mal's actually,' he said, feeling her name roll off his tongue like a rough piece of metal.

'This, this one was hers,' he said, opening his palm and revealing the spinning top.

'She'd spin it in the dream and it would never stop,' he said, placing it on a table nearby.

'Just spin and spin...' he added, following the movement of the small object, mesmerised. Ariadne's eyes travelled to the top and her gaze became unfocused as she too fell in the alluring trance of its movement.

They were both standing there, waiting with baited breaths for the top to fall.

Dom became aware of the presence next to him and it took all his power to break his concentration and stare back at her. He noticed she was just as affected as he was.

He touched her shoulder briefly, almost as if he were waking her up.

Ariadne blinked surprised.

'It does spin for a very long time,' she said, stepping back a little.

'Therein lies the problem. It's very difficult to tell if you're dreaming right away,' he admitted.

'Even Mal couldn't...always...' he trailed off, feeling his throat constrict with every word.

Ariadne nodded. 'Arthur told me she passed away.'

Dom nodded grimly, looking down at the tips of his shoes. He knew she was looking for some answers, he could feel it in her tone, in her eyes, in the way she pulled her scarf from one side to another.

She hadn't mentioned his wife's death just to commiserate with him or say how sorry she was for his loss, she wanted to know _why_ she died. And he couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell a soul.

She was about to open her mouth and he knew she was going to ask him about her death.

'I'm curious though, why did you take her totem?' she asked instead.

He blinked surprised. It took him a few moments to register the question.

'What do you mean?'

'You said that every dreamer must have his own totem and must never let anyone else touch it. But you touched hers,' she explained.

'Yes...but she's dead. She can't use it anymore and she won't be affected if I took it.'

'No, but won't you...be affected? I mean, doesn't it work the other way around as well? If you took her totem it means your perception in the dream was altered by hers.'

Cobb found himself at a loss for words. He had spent many nights thinking over the possibility of such an accident, wondering whether Mal's totem was safe, whether he should still keep it at his side, whether it wasn't destroying the last facsimile of truth in his dreams. He had always come to the conclusion that he had no way of being affected by her perception if she was dead. It was only _his_ perception.

But having his doubts voiced for the first time not by him, but by this young girl who knew nothing about him, made him reconsider his initial thought.

It was another crack in his battered shield, the shield he used to keep Mal away. Another crack which allowed Mal to tell him time and time again that she was alive, that she had woken up and he had not.

'She is dead now, she can't alter my perception anymore. I'm the only one...altering it,' he said dryly.

'Yes, you're altering it now. But did you take her totem before or after she died?' she pressed.

His mind was taken back to the safe in the doll house. He had hid her totem there. He had tampered with it willingly when she was alive. He had done that on purpose, to mould her ideas. But what if, as he had suspected many times in the past, she had moulded his ideas as well? What if, by taking it, he had changed them both radically?

'After,' he said after a prolonged pause.

'Well, I think that...'

'Ariadne, it's late. We'll talk about this another time,' he said, forcing himself to speak evenly. Inside he was a battling storm.

'O-okay. I didn't mean to pry, I'm sorry...'

'There's nothing to be sorry about. I just think we should be focusing solely on the mission.'

'Right, of course.'

'How are the mazes going?' he asked, pushing his thoughts back in the corners of his mind.

'The mazes? Oh, they're coming along great. I think level one could be ready for testing. All of them actually, but I'd still have to add some finishing...'

'May I have a look?' he asked, taking her by the shoulder softly again with the intent of going back to her desk.

'Um, sure,' she agreed, bending her head down in order not to catch his eyes.

She felt her heart stirring a bit too much in her chest as his palm smoothed the back of her shirt. She frowned annoyed. She had to stop reacting so oddly to his touches. He was her mentor, not some cute college professor she could think of in warmer terms. That would be completely ridiculous.

Dom was admittedly impressed with the level of work she had done so far. Her private desk was filled with sketches, layouts, cardboard cut-outs and everything he could have pictured someone doing in a year's time, not a month.

'Don't worry, I made Arthur help me with the brute work,' she joked, guessing his thoughts as he surveyed her busy corner in wonder.

The panels were filled with papers with new ideas for buildings and floors. He stared at them hungrily. How he wished he could pour over them. He smiled bitterly. He couldn't. He couldn't help her with the details. With anything. He stepped back, feeling suddenly very old and tired.

Ariadne called him to her wordlessly and he followed her to one of the boards where one of the mazes had already taken shape as a layout.

'Each level relates to the part of the subject's subconscious that we are trying to access,' she began formally.

'So, making the bottom level a hospital, so Fischer will bring his father,' she explained.

'You know what, I actually have a question about this layout,' she said, taking it into her hands deftly.

She turned towards him expectantly, hoping he would clarify her quandaries, but he pushed her hands aside gently.

'No, no, don't show me specifics, only the dreamers should know the layout,' he said, staring at her with the hidden request not to ask him more.

She frowned and dropped it on the table again, feeling slightly disappointed.

'Why is that so important?'

'In case one of us brings in our projections, we don't want them knowing the details of the maze,' he explained, drawing away from her and avoiding her searching eyes which he was sure were scanning his every move.

'You mean in case you bring Mal in,' she suddenly said, her face shaped in an expression of impatience and annoyance.

He was not ready for this remark. He stared back for a long time.

How could she be so kind and so cruel at the same time?

'You can't keep her out, can you?' she asked, her expression softening slightly, but her tone maintaining the same sharp edge as before.

He pursed his lips. He didn't want to admit this. But he was cornered.

'Right.'

'You can't build because if you know the maze, then she knows it,' she concluded logically.

'She'd sabotage the whole operation,' she added quickly, a small protest building up in her voice, almost like a whisper.

He began arranging the objects on her desk with a ridiculous amount of concentration, anything to avoid her intrusive questioning.

What was it about her that made him tell her things he had told no one? Why did he feel he could tell her everything?

She was a child. What could she understand?

'Cobb, do the others know?' she asked urgently.

'No,' he replied immediately, revealing his growing panic.

'You gotta warn them if this is getting worse,' she said, looking at his hunched shoulders.

'No one said it's getting worse!' he suddenly snapped, his voice a bit louder than intended.

Ariadne almost flinched. She had never heard him use such a tone before and it was not very pleasant.

He noticed she was uncomfortable, but he did not care at the moment. She had to understand who he was.

He got up and walked towards her.

'I need to get home, that's all I care about right now,' he said, chuckling in disbelief at his own words. Why did he need to explain himself? Wasn't it obvious?

Ariadne's anger flared inside of her.

She was done with his ambiguous replies.

'Why can't you go home?' she asked, standing in front of him with her arms crossed, her jaw set and determined.

His anger almost dissipated when he saw how unrelenting she was.

'Because they think I killed her,' he confessed weakly.

Her eyes widened considerably. She raised her arm as if to draw a line between them, push him further away.

She was not afraid, or at least she was trying not to feel afraid.

He brushed past her.

'Thank you.'

'For what?' she said, turning her head towards him.

'For not asking whether I did,' he said, nodding his head in disappointment.

She watched him walk further and further away from him, like a ghost, going back into the shadows.

'Cobb, wait, I'm sorry!' she yelled, running towards him, but he was already gone.

* * *

He groaned as he saw the light of morning hit him straight in his left eye. The space next to him felt suddenly warm as a soft weight shifted on his bed.

Strands of hair were tickling his nose. He blinked in a daze. Mal was standing over him wearing her familiar silk bathrobe. He raised his hand and touched her exposed shoulder. He brought her face down to his and kissed her softly.

She laughed into his kiss.

When she pulled herself back, he noticed her hair was longer.

'When did you let it grow?' he asked, raising an eyebrow. He touched her soft locks which were now caressing her shoulder blades.

'I didn't,' she grinned. 'It just happened.'

'It looks nice. Makes you look younger,' he noticed.

'How much younger?' she asked intently.

'Hmm, you're as beautiful as when you were in college,' he remarked. 'But you're always beautiful. You never age.'

'It wasn't my intention to look like a child,' she said pouting.

He held her waist and ran his hands over her smooth hips. 'You obviously don't.'

'You look older, worn out, tired, dying...' she began, tracing her fingers over his chest.

'Dying?' he echoed.

'Or dead already. I can't tell. Maybe...maybe you've died and this is heaven. With me,' she spoke, smiling.

'Heaven?'

'Since you claim so adamantly that I'm dead. Maybe you've joined me.'

'It _does_ look like heaven, Mal,' he admitted, staring into her beautiful eyes. 'But it's only a dream.'

'Hmm, is it?' she asked herself pensively.

She took out the spinning top from the folds of her bathrobe and placed it over his heart.

'Let's see then...'

She tried making it spin, but his skin was preventing her. It always fell forward. She fumbled with it until she dropped it between the sheets.

She laughed.

'So much for my _elegant_ solution of keeping track of reality,' she mocked.

He froze with his hands over her stomach, feeling the pulse beat like a hammer in his head.

The same words. The same words. Of course. Now he knew where he had heard it first.

But it was mere coincidence that they had both said the same thing. It wasn't as if –

'Yes, it's quite complicated, isn't it?' she asked, exposing her teeth.

'Am I the dream...' she began, twirling her hair between her fingers, 'or is _she_?'

Dom raised himself and pushed her aside, running a hand over his face, trying to subdue his tremors.

'Which one of is real, Dom? Can you tell?' Mal asked, crawling behind him and embracing his back.

When he turned his head to tell her she was only a shadow, his heart jumped out of his chest when he saw Ariadne instead, wearing the same bathrobe, her head against his back in an affectionate gesture, the same auburn hair tickling his skin.

He woke up with a jolt.

He was met with the darkness of his hotel room and the soaked sheets in his bed.

The PASIV was standing precariously on his nightstand. And his spinning top had left an indentation in his left palm.


End file.
